


To Catch You (and be caught in return)

by vonDasz



Category: The 100 (TV), To Catch A Pirate - Jade Parker
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Minor Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, One-Sided Attraction, Pirate!AU, Pirate!Lexa, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-09-08 02:33:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8826973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonDasz/pseuds/vonDasz
Summary: Clarke Griffin could never forget the pirate that had accosted her during the attack by the Commander of the Blood on the ship she had been sailing on with her father,on the way to build a new island fort in the Carribbeans. And she would never forgive her for being part of the reason her father was wrongfully imprisoned. Vowing to clear her father's name,she set out to catch Alexandria Woods,the rumoured right hand of the Commander himself--who happened to be the green-eyed devil whose kiss she was not able to erase from her mind.But who's to say the huntress cannot be hunted in return?The To Catch a Pirate au I just felt like writing.





	1. Prequel

1720: The Caribbean

It was a stupid thing, when she’ll come to reflect on this moment later. But for now Clarke Griffin was unable to point out which one was more terrifying: the muzzle of the gun held to her head, or the sharp, narrow-eyed stare of the pirate who’d discovered her hiding in the hold and was now shoving her against the wall at gun point, silencing her with the simple command to: “Hold your tongue, or I’ll make you.” The stare, she decided. The bright green eyes looking out of a face that would’ve been strikingly beautiful in a London ballroom void of mercy, no doubt hardened by a cruel life led among the waves. She was hardly catching her breath, despite having just ran down the stairs into the hold just a few minutes earlier. The black streaks running down her cheeks only served to enhance the brilliance of her eyes, and here in the high seas of the Caribbean, it was the very painting of a nightmare by the devil himself.

The young woman had covered her head with a red scarf; her dark brown hair in intricate braids cascading down her back. The small silver rings through the lobes of her ears occasionally glinted merrily in the light from the opening on top of the stairs. The merriment from the simple jewellery somehow adding to her air of unforgiving menace. Clarke Griffin didn’t think her captor was any much older than her sixteen years, but her green eyes blazed with an ancient fire far surpassing her youthful appearance. A chill ran through her, racking her body with tremors despite the sweltering heat of the tropics. She doubted she’d find compassion in the pirate’s nature. That this brunette with undeterred glare in front of her was as ruthless as the barbaric pirates that have attacked their ship.

After all, she was one of them.

Clarke had been travelling on board the Arkadia with her father. King George had assigned Jacob Griffin the governorship of Mourning, a small, little-known island in the Caribbean. She’d thought the assignment appropriate as she and her father were still recovering from the sudden death of her mother, who’d succumbed to the fever. Abigail Griffin, bless her soul, had caught the fever herself when she generously employed her medical skills to treat the commoners who were suffering from the plague. Clarke was grateful of the opportunity to leave England behind, along with the painful memories of losing her mother. She had been looking forward to this adventure, having never before travelled on the sea. It was thrilling to feel the ship rocking in the waves. She had breathed in deeply the scent of the sea, and it brought her peace to escape the smell of illness and death that hung over London. Here, between the deep blue sea under her and the clear blue sky above her, Clarke Griffin picked up her brush to paint again. Lord Griffin was overjoyed to see his daughter engrossed in her task: intently mixing the paints to recreate the layers of blue she can see all around her on her canvas. Calmed. And healing.

But that was before the pirates had attacked. Clarke couldn’t help scoffing at the name of their ship. Polaris. The ever present North Star that had been guiding generations of sailors on the sea, to be the name of the ship heralding their doom. The irony!

Unlike the familiar black flag flown by most pirate ships, a red one waved atop this one. The captain had turned white as sheet when the red flag was visible over the horizon. The legendary Commander of the Blood, captain of the Polaris. Rumours have it that the red is the red cape of the Commander, flowing behind him as he pillaged ships. And yet another whispered that the red came from the blood soaking his sword. Blood from the victims of his ruthless attacks.

When the Arkadia’s captain had announced they were too weighted down by cargo to even attempt escaping the fast approaching ship, Lord Griffin had ordered his daughter to hide in the cargo hold. Clarke had wanted to defy him, but she’d known she would’ve been useless and helpless in battle, the only thing she knew being that the sharp end of the cutlass is the lethal one.

So she’d tore into the hold, finding a nearly empty crate, and crawled inside, pulling the top over her. But hidden in the darkness, the pain from losing a parent and the fear of losing another one suffocated her. Cannons boomed above her, accentuating the noise of steel clashing against steel ringing in her ears. Unable to bear the suspense of not knowing her father’s fate any longer, she left the safety of the crate. She had been quietly creeping towards the stairs when the young pirate came barrelling down them.

She’d barely had the time to turn before she grabbed her and pinned her against the wall. An ominous silence fell around them after the sounds of battle. A heartbeat later, yells of triumph echoed. Clarke knew the fighting was over, her heart sinking heavily with the knowledge. The pirates had won. A different set of sounds started around her. Crashes and thuds starting anew as the pirates began plundering their spoils.

What about her father? Was he alive? Or had she lost the only other family left for her in this world? Her heart thundered in her chest at the images of her father, dying, rushing through her mind.

“Please—“she began.

“Silence. Hold your tongue or I’ll make you. I won’t say it again.”

She was surprised by her accent. British, of course, but more refined than she’d expected. Rather than this bloodthirsty pirate before her,they were the words one would’ve heard coming out from the mouth of a gentleman. Or a gentlewoman, in her captor’s case. Despite herself, she was curious of the hand fate dealt her in turning her into a pirate. A moment later, she was ashamed of her own curiosity. She’s a criminal. All she should want was to be free of her.

Slowly, her gaze roamed over her face. Clarke flinched under her scrutiny. But the green orbs were lit with a curiosity of their own. And the look she gave her was careful, as though she was trying to memorise her features. What would become of her? Would she be taken aboard the Polaris to be the toy of the Commander and his men? Would they sell her when they tire of her? Horror stories she’d heard and read of the fates of captive woman began whispering at the back of her mind. But at the moment, Clarke doubted there could be anything worse than being wedged between the wall and her.

The pirate’s eyes dropped to the gold pendant hung by its thin gold chain at her throat. With her free hand, she slipped her fingers around it…

“No, please. I beg of you, have mercy. Please don’t take it,” she pleaded, her desperation overcoming the fear of the gun still pressed to her head. Her gaze shot up, fiery green eyes boring into her fear-stricken blues. “You dare defy me??”

Shaking her head and fighting back her tears with all the strength she could muster, she forced herself to answer. “I only sought to explain.”

“You don’t value your life.”

“I value the necklace more.“ Her eyes widened in surprise at the answer.

“Heda!” a far-off voice shouted.

The pirate’s attention darted towards the opening on top of the stairs. Clarke could see her brows furrowed in concentration and a thoughtful look entering those eyes; a notion that she might have the chance of escaping surfacing. Before she could make any move, the pirate had stared at her again, seeming more menacing than before. “I have to take something up or the Commander will be down here. Mark my words, the Commander will take more than your precious piece.”

“Here,” she said breathlessly, holding up her right hand, showing her the ring she wore on her ring finger. “Take it, it’s got diamonds. Much more valuable.”

Her eyes narrowed at the offer. Untrusting. Clarke figured that trust wasn’t a word she had use for often in her daily life. She forced herself to meet her gaze. “Why offer me something of greater value?” she asked, her words dripping with suspicion.

“The pendant was my mother’s, she died recently, and it’s all I have left to remember her by.”

“You want to remember her?”

It was oddly disconcerting, the question. Though Clarke had no idea why.

“Of course. Why would I not?”

She looked as if she was about to answer the query, before seemingly decided against it.

“The pirate way is to take the finger when we take the ring. If you want to keep your lovely hand whole, you’ll have to give me something else of value.”

She swallowed hard at the thought of losing her finger, but her desire to keep her mother’s pendant made her stand her ground. “I have nothing else.”

She grinned. A grin more terrifying than her eyes or her gun.”Oh, but I think you do.” Before she could protest, the pirate lowered her head and kissed her. Hard. She’d never before been kissed like this. Surprisingly, her chapped lips were eager. And tasting of apples. Sweet and tart. Clarke wondered if she’d been munching on one before the attack. She gasped when teeth dug into her lower lips, and seizing the opportunity, a skilled tongue probed at hers. Inviting. Dominating. The kiss grew more passionate, more demanding. Her knees buckled and she automatically clung to her.

For a moment, she almost forgot that this person was a pirate.

“Heda!Weron laik yu??”

The pirate drew back, grabbed her hand and yanked the offered ring from her finger. Chuckling as though she was privy to a joke, she stepped into her vicinity once more. Her breath hot on her ear.

“Alexandria Woods. Remember my name.”

She stepped away from her, backing towards the stair. Her grin was still fixed on her lips. The lips Clarke was just getting to know intimately not a short while ago.

“A fair trade, m’lady. I’m content with it.”

Pressing her trembling hand to her tingling lips, she stared at her. Her grin disappeared abruptly, her expression turned harsh and solemn.

“Now, hide until we’ve left,” she commanded.

She turned on her heel, dashing up the stairs. ”Ai laik hir,Onya! Der ste nou diya hir!”

Somehow with her quivering legs, Clarke made it back into the crate. Once inside and the top pulled into place, she curled into herself, shutting her eyes. Tears burned behind her closed eyelids. What does she do now?

With her eyes tightly closed in the darkness, every crash and bang was intensified to her hearing and she flinched at each violent noises. She prayed to God, to every patron saint that she could recall desperately for help. For salvation. She had no idea how long had she waited, but eventually the sounds ceased and she was painfully aware of the silence. The uncertainty of the situation shot another arrow of fear deep into her heart. What could it mean? Had the pirates left?

When footsteps thundered down the stairs, she braved herself to lift the lid the slightest.

“Miss Griffin! Miss Griffin!”

She recognised the voice. Bellamy Blake. One of the younger officers. He was undeniably handsome, with dark hair and dark eyes. Although he rarely spoke to her, she’d caught him staring at her when she was strolling about the deck several times.

“Here! I’m here!” she shouted.

She tried to push back the top when suddenly it was thrown off and Mr. Blake appeared. His face and clothing were streaked liberally with blood, his expression serious.

“Your father sent me to fetch you, “his words as he helped her to climb out sending waves of relief through her. “Oh, thank goodness. Is he all right??”

“He’s hurt but alive. We’re abandoning ship.”

“Why?”

“Because the pirates set it on fire. Come quickly!”

He grabbed her hands, pulling her along. It was difficult for her to keep up with his frantic pace with his legs longer than hers. When they reached the top, bile rose in her throat when she was treated to a scene of carnage; mangled bodies littering the deck.

“Don’t look," Mr. Blake ordered.

How could she not?

He urged her across the deck where Captain Miller was standing. “I’m glad to see you safe Miss Griffin," he said. ”Your father’s waiting.”

Looking over the side, she saw four longboats waiting. Her father and several crewmen were waiting for her in one of them, bobbing on the sea.

“How do I get down there?”

“You just climb down Jasper’s ladder, “Captain Miller replied. He lifted a rope ladder and let it drop back against the side. “Mr. Blake will go first, then you so he could help prevent you from falling. I’ll follow once you’re safely in the boat. Go now, lad. Hurry. The longboats must be far from the ship before she sinks or they’re all in danger of being pulled under.”

Clarke watched as Bellamy Blake climbed over the side of the ship, holding firm to the ladder, waiting for her to join him. The captain helped her to climb over the side.

It was awkward, him being so near. But his presence lent her the confidence to step down quickly. When they’ve descended near enough, he hung on with one hand, swinging himself to the side. His other hand guided her as others took hold of her and helped her into the boat. When she finally settled beside her father, he wound his arms around her.

“You’re safe,” he whispered brokenly. She buried her face in his jacket, muffling her sobs. She nodded.”

“You’re safe too, father. Thank goodness, Thank god.”

“They took the ivory chest,Clarke. The one King George entrusted to me. His Majesty wouldn’t be pleased to find out I let it be taken.”

She knew the gold coins that were to be used to build a splendid palace and fort on Mourning had been stored inside. King George had plans for the newly acquired island to be the jewel of the Carribbean, and had suggested that British men-of-war accompany the Arkadia. Lord Jacob Griffin had argued against it as an escort would alert pirates that he was carrying something precious and he refused to let them sack Mourning before he’d even begun to build its first township.

Clarke pulled back.” What choice did you have? Surely His Majesty will understand, Father.” Lord Griffin didn’t seem to be listening. He stared straight ahead as though witnessing the curtain rise on a horrible future .

The boat rocked as Captain Miller boarded it.”Let’s be off, men!” he shouted. “Row handsomely now!”

The crewmen began rowing. It was only then that Clarke noticed Bellamy Blake sitting across her. With what tattered remains of her strength, she gave him a shaky smile.

“You’re trembling,” he said.

“I’m freezing. Isn’t that s-s-silly?” she powered through her chattering teeth.” We’re in the Caribbean and I feel as though I’ve been buried in snow.”

He removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Your reaction is quite normal,” he said. “You’ve just went through a frightening experience. I’m quite shaky myself.”

The smile she gave him this time was a little more solid. She pulled his jacket more tightly around herself, absorbing the warmth, hardly noticing the blood marring it.

As the men rowed out further, she glanced towards the Arkadia, watching in horror as flames engulfed the ship and the mutilated bodies she remembered strewn aboard. Then she eyes shifted to the south where another ship boldly sailed away. She thought of the pirate who’d accosted her in the hold.

Alexandria Woods. She’d remember her name. She’d remember her face.

And worst of all, she would never, could never, forget her kiss.


	2. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this a bit earlier cause I want to enjoy my weekend. It's been a hectic week with all the usual end-of-term rush.Without further ado...

Alexandria Woods was a pirate on land.

Sitting in the far back corner of the crowded tavern, hidden by the shadows, she reached for her tankard of rum, watching the people coming in and out of this run-down establishment in this wretched part of the world.

Aboard the Polaris, she’d found a place where she belonged. The wild call of the sea resonated with her soul. She enjoyed the feel of the ship underneath her feet, swaying and rolling. Dancing among the whipping waves. She welcomed the challenges of an outlaw’s life with a relish. The thrill of battle, the constant risk of being caught , the expectations and hope intertwining with the opportunity to acquire wealth beyond her wildest dreams.

Alexandria Woods was a pirate to the end, a woman of the sea.

So what was she doing on land, a criminal with a bounty on her head, voluntarily away from her ship? She downed the remainder of her grog and replaced the tankard back on the table. Through the smoky haze filling the tavern, she caught the attention of the barmaid serving the neighbouring table and held up two fingers. She winked at her, smiling brightly and hurried away to fetch her order. Leaning back in her seat, she fiddled with the ring she wore on the ring finger of her left hand. It was a worthless trinket; fool’s gold and cut glass. Nothing of value, not even the slightest. The only memento from the girl she’d discovered in the hold.

Who had continued to haunt her.

She didn’t even know her name, but she’d earned her admiration. Even with her gun pressed to her head, she’d been defiant. Alexandria had thought that after years at sea, she’d seen all the shades of blue that exist in this world. Yet she’d never once felt the very real risk of drowning in them as she did gazing into the girl’s blazing blue eyes. They were so very bright, that even in the darkness of the hold where they met, it still seared through her existence. Her golden hair had spilled over her shoulders, enticing. And she wasn’t any immune to her enchantment, despite the many nights she’d spent with countless women.

 

God damn it, but she dreamed of holding her in her arms.

 

And no other women seemed to be able to extinguish the torch she carried for the golden-haired angel. It was as if her soul had decided that it had met its twin flame. That no one can even come close.

The girl must’ve been a witch. A siren. Capable of casting a spell more powerful than anything. It was the only explanation. Why else could she not forget her?

(The niggling little voice in her head kept telling her that this was not a spell she should want lifted. She ignored it anyway.)

The buxom barmaid returned with her order, setting two tankards on the table. She offered her a lopsided smirk, flipping a coin her way. The woman leaned deliberately close to her, smiling invitingly. “After we close, I can offer more zan tankards to a handsome lady like yourzelf.”

Alexandria grinned. “Lovely as the offer is, I’m afraid I’ll be otherwise occupied tonight.”

She cocked her head thoughtfully. “You look familiar ma chérie.”

“That would be a curious thing, wouldn’t it? Seeing that I’m a stranger to these parts.”

“Still..zere’s something about you..” She shook her head, likely dismissing the thought. She flirtatiously tucked a stray lock of hair behind Alexandria’s ear. “Never mind zen. If you’ll change your mind later…” The invitation hung unspoken as she sashayed away from her table. Alexandria’s smirk grew wider. Not likely.

“Is one of that for me,Heda?”

 

She had been so absorbed watching the wench, she’d missed the arrival of Echo, a fellow pirate with the talent in finding information. Or as they said on the Polaris, echoing the useful titbits back to them. Hence her name.

Wrapping her hand around a tankard, she slid it across the scarred wooden table to her companion.

“Have at it. And mind how you address me.”

“Yes,He–ah. Woods.” She nodded obediently, dropping into the seat beside Alexandria.

She had known Echo for the latter’s entire life. They had trained together, although since Alexandria was older she had boarded the Polaris earlier than her. She trusted her absolutely, the way she did with the entire crew of the Polaris. And since her talent was particularly useful for her current mission, she’d brought Echo together with her on this crazy journey she had on land.

..

 

Alexandria was watching the burning ship through the spyglass, a bitter satisfaction in her chest at seeing the destruction she’d wrought. While the Polaris attacked ships of all nations, they were in the habit of always burning British ships. Where they were concerned, she held a particular dislike.

As was usual, Anya stood beside her, frowning when she saw the longboats moving beyond the sinking ship and blonde hair blowing in the wind. Anya had been her mentor since she was seven, training her and preparing her for a life aboard a pirate ship. She was loyal to a fault, and was an extremely strict teacher. Most of her lessons were hard learned, but learned nonetheless.

“Looks like there was a wench aboard,Heda,” Anya broke the silence. “How’d we missed her?”

Alexandria shrugged nonchalantly. “She must’ve been hiding, then.”

“We tore the ship apart, from stern to stern,Heda. Someone had to have seen her. I’ll bet she was in the hold.” She lifted an eyebrow expectantly at Alexandria. She wasn’t a woman easily cowed, but in front of the woman who’d raised her for more than half her life, she easily caved in.

She dug the ring out of her pocket. “She paid me well to let her go.”

Anya took the ring from her outstretched palm, studied it, and tossed it back to her. “It’s nothing but glass,Heda. Bit of a fakery. But I know you knew that. Why would you still take it?”

She smirked in lieu of an answer. Though it did not deter her Fos in the slightest, who let out a heavy sigh. “Really,Lexa?”

Anya’s usage of her nickname only made her smirk wider. She waved the older woman off. “All in good time,Onya. All in good time.”

..

 

It was around six months ago, when Lincoln returned from his off duty, bringing news about a pirate hunter who had been spreading reward notice for Alexandria all along the coast. Six weeks ago, she and Echo have arrived in French Louisiana. The ship that had brought them was in port for repairs. It would be a few more weeks before she was ready to head back into open waters. She didn’t mind waiting. It’d be easier to keep under the detection by working on an honest ship.

Before Echo could grab her tankard, Alexandria hold on to it. “Did you do as I asked?”

“Sha,He–,”she began to answer, Alexandria’s withering look stopping her in her track. She coughed, chastised. “I mean, yes, Woods.” She took out a notepad from her shirt’s pocket. “It’s as you suspected. The pirate hunter is on our scent. The Lady Vengeance made port late this afternoon.”

Alexandria was already well aware of that.

Echo flipped through the pages of her note “They say that the captain is a woman on a mission. A lady on her path to get her vengeance.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Not believing the rumour mill, Woods? I mean, it’s not as if women pirates are as much a myth as people believe they are.” She chuckled. ”Isn’t that so?”

Alexandria twirled her dagger slowly, contemplating the situation at hand. “Not privateers. No royal governor would issue a letter of marque to a woman. He’d be laughed out of office.”

“What if one did?”

“Well then he’s an idiot.”

“That goes without saying, you know.”

“I do.”

“You reckon she’s lying about the marque?” 

Alexandria smirked at the question. “Women are the sliest creature in Creation after all, Miss Echo.”

“Aye,” Echo grinned. “You would know that better than anyone, wouldn’t you, Woods?” She took a long swig of her grog. “Our cunning forgiven, still. Where else would they get their kisses, after all? ”

Alexandria smiled absently, Echo’s words recalling the last time she ever took part in any kissing, and the memories made her lick her lips reflexively. As if to find any leftover taste of the blonde on them after all the time that had passed. “So The Lady Vengeance may or may not be captained by a woman,ey?”

Echo pulled out a piece of paper from her notebook, unfolding it smoothly on the table. “Any which way the truth is, she’s passing these around. She’s definitely after you, that much is certain.”

She did know. It was the reason she was here instead of being with her family on the Polaris, after all. Alexandria took the paper, studying her likeness. It was accurate; even the streak of her face paint exactly as she would have applied it. The details of the painting made her smile.

Someone knew her very, very well. Remembered her with a borderline obsessiveness. And wanted her badly enough to go to the expense of printing up reward notice.

Refolding the wanted poster, she tucked it neatly in her inner jacket pocket. It wouldn’t do for someone to pick it up, notice her, and decide that the hundred pound reward was worth the effort of trying to catch her. That would definitely throw a wrench in her plans, and if there’s something Alexandria hated more than anything, it was when things didn’t go according to her calculations. 

“A lot of people would be tempted to turn you in for the reward,” Echo quipped, clearly understanding what’s going on in her mind.

Alexandria flashed a smile at her, baring all her teeth. “Are you tempted, Echo?”

Echo looked up at her demurely through her eyelashes. “What answer are you hoping to hear from me, Woods?” She playfully clinked her tankard against Alexandria’s, downing the contents.

She leaned back in her seat. Echo was right. Many a man would be tempted. The barmaid’s statement from earlier played in her memory, about her looking familiar. Had she seen one of the wanted posters? How many others might have?

Seemed like depending on the identity of her illustrious hunter, this could well make or break her plans.

Echo tapped out a rhythm on the table. “I found us a captain who’s willing to take on a couple of experienced sea rovers like us.”

Alexandria peered at her from over her tankard. “An honest ship would take on crew members without papers and recommendations? Or a meeting first? ”

“Well, it was quite on the grey side of legal.. You interested, Woods?” She leaned in and whispered. “The captain’s not asking any question.”

“I thought I’ve made it clear to you that we’re taking cover in honest ships.” Alexandria glared at her.

“It is.” Pause. “Barely, though.”

Alexandria heaved a sigh. She’d trusted her crewmates with her life, however. And despite itself, in this situation it wasn’t any different.

“When does he leave?”

“First light. With the morning tide.”

“Very well then. “she acquiesced, lifting her grog for a toast.

Echo clanked her tankard gamely. “To things as they are meant to be.”

Alexandria smirked. “Aye.”

 

There was no reason to delay, so Alexandria drained her tankard in one long, hearty swallow, Echo following closely behind. Neither of them had a need to return to the squalor where they’d been living these past few weeks. Alexandria carried everything that mattered on her. Her pistols were tucked in her belt holsters. Her dagger strapped to her opposite side of her cutlass. The only clothes she’d brought with her were those on her back. It was easy; to come and go as she pleased. The freedom her nomadic lifestyle allowed her was something she definitely enjoyed.

But sometimes she did find herself yearning for something..more. More permanent. Reliable A home she could always return to. A safe refuge of her own.

A someone to come home to.

(And if tresses of flowing blonde locks and a shades of bright blues have recently dominated her dreams whether in sleep or waking, it’s no one else’s business but her own.)

She and Echo stepped into the night. Grey mists swirled at their feet as they moved farther away from the bustling tavern, making their way through the narrow streets. The light from lanterns hung here and there created an eeriness in the fog that had rolled into the city in the night. It was nearly midnight, and the streets were fairly deserted as Echo led the way.

“This way, Woods.”

She turned into a dark passage, trapped by buildings on either side of it. The lanterns providing the light were absent here, but farther down a glow fought the mist. Alexandria frowned in unease. This was exactly the type of place she would use if she wanted to mug someone.

“Yo ho ho and a bottle —“ Echo began singing.

“Quiet!” Alexandria commanded in a harsh whisper.

“Yes, Woods.” Echo obeyed, muttering under her breath.

Alexandria crept cautiously behind Echo. She’d never been afraid of the dark; Anya had made sure that particular fear trained out early of her, citing that, “Pirates aren’t scared of a little dark. We’re supposed to be fearless.” But a little caution was always necessary, what with the kind of life she’d led so far. She had been taught to be aware of the littlest shifts in her surrounding from a very young age. Which is how she was able to detect it.

A whisper of sound.

Something that didn’t belong.

The rasp of her cutlass as she drew it from its sheath cut through the silence.

Echo stopped. ”Hey now, Woods. Why are you so jumpy?”

Alexandria’s eyes narrowed at Echo’s silhouetted figure, the light beyond her. “Something’s amiss.”

The hairs along the nape of her neck prickled and rose, the sense of something’s wrong running up her spine.

“Woods, you can’t—“

Echo let out a little scream and disappeared into the blackness. The sound of metal scraping against metal made itself known to her as a light flared to the side.

She swung around. Half a dozen men stood behind her, one of them holding a lantern aloft. He must’ve had it encased in a sort of metal container to prevent it from being seen earlier. Another sound floated from behind her shoulder, prompting her to look for the source. More light. More men.

She drew her dagger swiftly, now holding a weapon in each hand.

A man stepped forward. “Drop your weapons Woods, and no harm will come to you.”

Alexandria chuckled as though she were on the deck of a ship, facing a taunting bully. “If you want them, come and take them.”

She slashed her cutlass through the air, slicing nothing except fog. But the movement made a whistling sound that echoed between the buildings. Boldly. Daringly. A challenge for anyone to come close.

She swung around at the rush of footsteps behind her, her blade hitting another. The ringing of steel vibrating around her. She thrust with her dagger and her opponent jumped back.

She was at a disadvantage, it was pretty clear to her.

There were too many. She could see no way of escaping, but she’d be damned if she went down without a fight.

“You can’t win against us,” the man who’d spoken before said. “Surrender to the captain of The Lady Vengeance.”

Alexandria let out another snort of laugh as she spun around. “Well, wouldn’t that make your work easier? Think again, mate.”

“I’m not the captain,” he replied.

She tsked at his answer. “Too much of a coward to do his own work?”

A pain shot through Alexandria’s head, forcing her to her knees. Someone had sneaked up behind her and clobbered her skull. Her weapons were torn from her grasp, leaving her feeling vulnerable. Weak. The world spun around her as she tried to get up, but the ground was so much more inviting. All she wanted to do was lie down and sleep.

A hand jerked her roughly to her feet. Her arms were wrenched behind her before she felt the bite of rope as someone bound her hands.

The clinking of coins caught her attention, and she watched, stunned, while the men who’d spoken earlier tossed a small bag into Echo’s outstretched palm.

Echo walked up to Alexandria. “Sorry Woods, just looking out for my best interests.”

She took a swing, her fist hitting Alexandria’s right eye, sending her toppling back to the ground.

“That’s enough!” A feminine voice shouted.

As awkward as it was with her hand tied behind her back, Alexandria lifted her head and watched a girl walking out of the mist.

With blonde hair flowing past her shoulders.

She stopped only a few feet from her. “So we meet again, Alexandria Woods.”

It was the girl from the hold. And from the look on her face, she had every intention of sending her to hell.


	3. 2

Clarke Griffin sat at the desk in her cabin, still very much in disbelief at finally capturing Alexandria Woods.

It had been almost too easy.

The thought nagged at her. The Lady Vengeance had set sail on her order as soon as she and her crew had boarded the ship--with their captive in tow. It's been a year since the attack on the Arkadia, and she was no longer the weak and helpless lady who would seek refuge should pirates dared to seize her ship. No, she'd learned a lot, and Clarke Griffin would now draw her cutlass to fight back.

She was skilled with the parry and the thrust, what with the countless hours she'd spent learning the lethal dance of sword fighting in close quarters aboard a ship. Her slender figure gave her an advantage, generally making her much nimbler than her opponent as she manoeuvred in places with little room, usually against Bellamy Blake.

She'd been under his tutelage, since the young officer who'd helped her disembark from the Arkadia had left the King's service shortly after the attack. He claimed that he also felt he could serve the Crown better as a free agent, unbounded by the strict regulations that applied to the Royal Navy. And together with him, she plotted and planned how best to recover what they had lost.

With the money Lord Griffin had set aside for her dowry, Clarke had purchased an aging ship and renamed it the Lady Vengeance. Betting everything she had left, she had set sail wanting nothing more than to capture the Commander of the Blood and regain the treasure stolen from her father. It had taken them some time to make it to a port after the pirates had burned their ship and let them adrift. From there, they've boarded a ship that took them to New Providence, where instead of help, her father was met with accusation from the royal governor there, Thelonious Jaha, who suspected her father of being in league with the Commander. He had reasoned to her objection by citing that the pirate had not killed them all, then proceeded to arrest her father and charged him with piracy!

Clarke had pleaded with Jaha to grant her a letter of marque, for a chance to sail an expedition to prove her father's innocence—only to be thoroughly rejected by the governor who had laughed at the idea of a woman serving as a privateer.

She wasn't any ordinary woman, but the daughter of Abigail Griffin who had stubbornly went and treated plague victims at the cost of her own life. The obstinacy ran in her blood; if Jaha wasn't going to grant her a marque, she would damn forge one! It wasn’t just blatant disregard towards the rule either, she needed it to declare her legitimacy at ports and to secure her crew. Otherwise, she would appear to be no more than a pirate herself―and at the mercy of other privateers.

Bellamy had agreed to serve on Clarke’s ship as quartermaster, the second in command. She had promised that when the treasure was returned, the payment for his services would be the ship. He had been an invaluable friend to her. With him, she had managed to obtain a crew. He had instructed her in the art of fighting with a cutlass, and how to fire a pistol with a fair accuracy. The Clarke Griffin after the attack was no longer a damsel in distress―she had two loaded pistols nestled in her belt. Her sword was hung by her side, along with her dagger, yet another dagger tucked into her boot.

All along the Caribbean and the coast of colonial America, Clarke had sent her men into various taverns and pubs to gather information and post bounty notices. Pirates would sometimes leave one ship to find work on another. With enough grog in them, they’d sing like a canary, remorseless.

She'd managed to learn that the Commander was in the habit of burying his treasure shortly after he gained it, favouring an island in the Caribbean for his purposes. Tavern talks also told that if anywhere, the best bet to find him would be on the island, where he'd generally hid himself between voyages. Despite all the stories flying about the ruthless pirate captain, no one was able to tell Clarke where the island was located. He was not only savage, but prudent as well, it seemed.

But what apprentice didn't have a healthy dose of curiosity.

Alexandria Woods, if rumours were, had begun her pirating ways by serving as one of the Commander’s successors, a Nightblood. The closest one to her captain.

“You caught her. Shouldn't you be smiling?”

Clarke looked up and met Bellamy’s dark gaze. He was only 25, fairly young to be the quartermaster of a ship. He had a sense of justice that rivalled her, though. The crew listened when he spoke, and extended the respect to her with him by her side.

“I fear capturing her was the easy part,” Clarke sighed. “Getting her to cooperate is another matter.”

“Are you certain she holds the answer?”

Clarke nodded. Since she began her journey to find the treasure stolen from her father’s ship, she'd learned a great deal about the Commander of the Blood and Alexandria Woods.

“They say she was closer to the Commander than any man. That the Commander treated her almost like his own child.”

“Odd then, that she'd be marooned.”

“She obviously fell into disfavour,” she waited a heartbeat before continuing. “And that might work to our advantage.”

“You think she'll want her own revenge?”

“Wouldn't you?”

“Absolutely. But I wouldn't trust others to help me acquire it.”

“We'll give her no choice.”

“I'm not sure I understand why you're so determined to catch Alexandria Woods when capturing the Commander would give us what we need.”

“My reasons are personal, but I assure you they're justified. And in the end, our current course will yield much more satisfactory results.”

He kept quiet after listening to her answer. As much as he questioned her, he also respected her opinion. The plan she had involved finding the Commander and capturing his ship in order to reclaim the treasure. She knew—they all knew—the Commander wouldn't surrender without a fierce fight. What she wanted, most of all wasn't really the treasure. She sought to free her father from suspicion, clear his name, and give him back his life. To that end, it was necessary for her to not only recover the treasure, but to deliver the Commander—alive—to Governor Jaha.

She shoved back her chair and stood. “I need to talk to our prisoner.”

Bellamy rose in response. “I'll go with you.”

“No, I think it’s better if I go alone.”

“Clarke, that is hardly a wise plan.”

“She’s chained and caged. She can’t harm me.”

“My concern is not about her hurting you, rather her charming you.”

Clarke couldn’t help herself, scoffing at Bellamy’s words. “I despise the very air she breathes. She’s a pirate!”

“With a reputation amongst the ladies,” Bellamy frowned. “I daresay most of the information we gathered on her came from the women she trifled with.”

“I promise you, Bellamy. Her charms will have no effect on me.”

She repeated those words as she stood at the top of the steps leading down to the brig. She wouldn’t fall for her charms. Even the kiss from the rogue pirate was almost erased from her memory. Only in her dreams she sometimes remembered how those lips tasted like, felt like. It was so vivid, so real... she could almost feel the press of the full lips against her own. And she was horrified when later she woke up distinctly remembering the thrill driving her heart at the dreams. Her life had not been lacking the presence of the highest quality of gentlemen. Alexandria Woods? She’s nothing like any of them at all. A scoundrel. A crook. A pirate. 

She was the key to returning her father to her.

Carefully descending the narrow steps, she lifted the lantern she was holding higher when something scurried past her. She chuckled at the thought of how curious it was that rats always managed to find their way aboard ships.

Wrinkling her nose at the dankness of the brig rising to assail her nostrils, she spotted Alexandria Woods squinting up at her from where she sat on the floor in her cell, the light from the lantern chasing the shadow, illuminating her face. She glanced briefly at the dark corners; there were no luxuries here. Prisoners kept in in brig didn’t deserve such considerations.

The pirate regarded her with insolence, the full lips she’d once pressed against hers curved in a half smirk. Her flowing shirt had seen better days, and the cheek where Echo hit her was bruised, the firelight dancing off the silver rings in her earlobes. Her blasé attitude made her seemed all the more wicked, and Clarke’s heart thudded in her chest at the sight.

“Alexandria Woods.” She barked the cursed name that had been haunting her after quietly clearing her throat.

She grinned fully at her. “You have me at a disadvantage, milady. I don't know your name.”

“Clarke Griffin. You may call me Captain Griffin.”

Before Clarke could have blinked, her captive had risen to her feet, wrapping har hands around the bars. She was at almost half a head taller than Clarke, towering over her.

“So formal,” the low tones sent shivers down her spine. “After we've been so closely..acquainted.”

“There's no such thing as any form of acquaintance between us.”

“You taste of strawberries,” the brunette licked her lips. “Delicious.”

She would have slapped her if she could, cursing the bars for being in the way. Still, she was privately grateful for their presence. Facing Alexandria Woods in person was much more disconcerting than she thought it'd be. Already she could felt her bravado slipping away.

“You stole that kiss and my ring. I'll have it back.”

Woods’ grin widened at her words, leaning even closer against the bars separating them. “The kiss? By all means, I'll be delighted to.”

“I meant my ring,” she scowled. “You insolent dog.”

“Such a pity, but who am I to deny the captain,” the pirate took a step back, holding up the ring which Clarke can see was hung from a black string tied around her neck. “Come and get it, then.”

As Clarke would give her the satisfaction of taking up her challenge. Did she truly think the captain would deign to enter the cell? She glared at the jolly-looking pirate.  
“Keep it. It's worthless anyway.”

“Oh no no,” Woods singsonged, peering through the ring at Clarke. “I wouldn't say so,” she purred.

Clarke narrowed her eyes at their exchange. She didn't know what she had expected. Maybe a little less cockiness. And a little fear. She doubted Alexandria Woods had realised exactly what was going on—or what Clarke wanted her to think was going on. Her marque was forged, after all. Even Bellamy was not privy to the knowledge. But it was to only way for her to acquire an appearance of legitimacy, to get a crew to follow and respect her. Desperation calls for desperate measures. And a mountain of lies.

“Are you familiar with New Providence?”

She simply cocked an eyebrow in response.

“It's in the Bahamas,” Clarke elaborated impatiently.

“I've sailed this seas a good many years. I'm confident I know where it is better than you.”

Clarke gritted her teeth at the answer. “I'm planning to transport you there.”

“Though I most certainly appreciate the kind offer,” Woods affected an apologetic smile. “I'm afraid I'm not interested.”

“It's not an offer. I take it you're familiar with the reputation if it's royal governor?”

“Ah, yes. I understand he's a man of little humour. Poor sod.”

Woods was trying to goad her with her nonchalance. She had no plans to take the bait, but her temper was becoming sorely pricked.

"The King has charged him with ridding the area of pirates. Governor Jaha has the power to try, convict, and execute. He has exercised that power quite frequently of late."

“His mum must be proud of him, I imagine.”

“You are not taking your situation seriously, Miss Woods. It is my intention to deliver you there to stand trial. I shall serve as a witness against your evil deeds, as will Mr. Blake. There will be no other outcome. You'll certainly be found guilty of piracy.”

“I wouldn't want to assume.”

“You'll find yourself dancing the devil’s jig on the gallows.”

“I knew I should've let Anya teach me to dance.”

Clarke huffed in frustration, wondering if this woman in front of her understood what she's saying. For all her idiocy in joining the pirates, she did seem intelligent.

“You'll be hanged,” she repeated firmly.

“Such a ghastly way to go!” Woods clicked her tongue. “Oh dear, I do not think my delicate nerves can take this.”

Clarke’s mouth twitched in annoyance. “Indeed. It's neither pretty, nor is it pleasant.” Not that she had ever witnessed a hanging in person, but she was an artist. Vividly imagining such scene wasn't actually a hard thing.

She let Woods had a moment for her words to sink in, to let him ponder the consequences of the life she'd led and the destination awaiting her.

She cleared her throat. “I have the power to grant you your freedom.”

Woods’ eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, studying her, her half-smirk permanently on her lips. Clarke knew she was smarter than she look, still she wasn't able to make out what she might be thinking.

“Oh? After all the trouble you went to just to capture me? Do tell.”

“I'm not offering you your freedom, but a deal. To trade you for it.”

She winked at her, her cocky grin back in place. “My freedom for a kiss?”  
“Stop overestimating your charm,” she tilted her head to meet her eyes directly. “For information--provided that information bears fruit.”

Woods smirked at her. “Oh? About what?”

“The location of the island where the Commander buried his treasure.”

"Even if you found the island, you'd not find the treasure. Have you not heard how he secures his secrets'? By blinding those who help him bury it, leaving them to roam over the island for the rest of their days. They say that when you get near enough to the island you can hear their souls weeping in misery,” she paused briefly. “Well, that is if you can managed to get through the Grounders guarding the island.”

“But you just said no one else knows where his treasures are?”

“They are guarding the island. Meaning that you could hardly take a step further into the island without at least an arrow through your neck.”

Clarke shuddered at the visual. She took a deep breath, steeling up her resolve to get through this encounter without revealing any squeamishness.

“If I can find the island, I can capture the Commander there when he returns to it. I can force him to order his people aside and return the treasure.”

“It's in the Bahamas,” she rattled the bars, startling Clarke. “Now set me free.”

Clarke despised the lapse in her facade. She had strived to be in control of this negotiation, and being so easily undone was not part of her plan. Grasping her mother’s necklace, she shored up her resolution.

"That's not an adequate answer. The Bahamas is a vast area, with more than a hundred uncharted islands. I need more than that. Coordinates, longitude and latitude. I need a precise location."

“You are not kidding me?”

“I assure you, Miss Woods, regarding the treasure entrusted to my father, I never jest.”

“I can't help you. The Commander would have my head strung from his sails, and my blood for dying his new cape.”

“Are you afraid of him?” Clarke taunted.

Woods chuckled. “Hardly. I fear no one.”

“Then you will help me find him?”

“In exchange for my freedom?”

“Yes. I promise that after he had been captured, you will be set free.”

The pirate let out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing in the small space of the brig. Clarke frowned, not understanding what she could've found so amusing in her words. When her laughter winded down, she gave her a once over, as though measuring her worth.

“I wonder,” she mused. “A promise is easily given,” her gaze fixated against Clarke’s. “Rarely kept.”

“I will keep mine. You can take my word for it?”

“Your word?” She turned in circles, miming looking for something. “I couldn't see it,” then patted her hands randomly against the walls of her cell. “I can't feel it. It has no substance. Ergo, it does not exist.”

“Many a thing with substance cannot be grasped physically.”

“And I trust not one of them,” she gave Clarke another wide grin. “The same as I don't trust you.”

The frustration clawed at her. How could she convince her? “I owe you. You did not kill me or take me captive when you could have. I'm returning the favour now, but you must help me find the Commander.”

“Echo owed me as well, yet she struck a bargain with you quickly enough. You too will do the same when a better offer comes along.”

“I won't. I swear—” 

“Oh save it, captain. I have no interest in your oath, your promises, and in helping you.”

“When we reach New Providence it'll be too late.”

Woods snorted. “I am not a fool. It's already too late.”

“Twenty-four hours. I'll grant you that long to reconsider. At that time we'll decide whether to set course for New Providence or elsewhere.”

The pirate smiled at her, fluttering her eyelashes in mock innocence. Impudent bastard. Clarke spun on her heel to leave.

“Princess.”

She looked back at her, prickled. “I am not a princess.”

Woods shrugged. “You certainly act like one. As though I only exist for the sole purpose of doing as you wish.”

"I can't deny that I consider you beneath me. If I were a boy, I'd spit on you."

"If you were a boy, I would have killed you back in the hold."

The utter conviction with which those words were spoken chilled her.

"Is nothing of value to you?" she asked.

“Hardly,” she gestured towards her. “Don't suppose you'd leave the lantern?”

“Why? The dark scares you?” She almost jeered at her, her loathe at the infuriating woman growing with each passing moment. How could she every thought she had the power to convince her to assist her quest?

“Not fond of the rats. The light keeps them at bay.

Though she should not be surprised at her audacity, she was sorely tempted to leave her in the dark. Let the rats have at him, she would probably come around more quickly with that. But she was not as savage as Woods was. She would not stoop so low.

Hooking the lantern on a peg near the cell, she turned away and started making her way out of the hold after sparing one last look at her prisoner. She would make the other woman cooperate with her one way or another . If Clarke had to take the cat-o’-nine-tails to her back to break her, she would.  
*****

Alexandria waited until a few moments after the door above banged shut.  
“Echo,” she called out in a quiet voice.

From behind a barrel in the opposite corner of the brig, almost hidden from the light of the lantern, Echo emerged.

“Sha, Heda,” she came close to the cell, passing a slender wire to her. The caged woman herself had one embedded in the heel of her leather boot, but she accepted it anyway, inserting it into the lock on the manacle of her left wrist. She dug it around, listening as the tumblers clinked, right before the manacle snapped open. She quickly opened the other one. If she heard anyone coming, she could put them back on easily enough.

Rubbing her chafed wrists, she took the bit of food and pouch of water Echo wordlessly passed to her, glancing around, taking in her surroundings with the help of the light from the lantern. Nothing much to see. A brig is a brig, after all. She turned to study the girl in front of her.

“That was a rather hard punch, Echo.”

“Forgive me, Heda. I—” 

She waved the apology away. “That is alright. I understand why you did what you did,” the constant creaking and rolling of the ship caught her attention. “We've set sail?”

“Sha, Heda. It seems like you're the only cargo they had meant to pick up.”

She took a bite into the bread and cheese Echo had brought her. “Are you sure nobody had seen you coming here?”

“I'm certain. I have been assigned to the galley, just above the brig. So I can come down here easily enough.”

Alexandria nodded absently. Clarke Griffin coming to see her had taken her off guard. Even more surprising was the offer she had made. Seemed to her that rather than Alexandria Woods, the one Clarke Griffin was really after was the Commander. She chuckled deeply, taking a long swig from the water pouch.

“Here,” she handed the now empty pouch to Echo. “Keep your eyes and ears open for anything, understand?” The girl nodded vehemently.

Alexandria leaned back against the wall of her cell, watching Echo quietly hurrying up the steps. She did hit hard, but the pirate had to admit she had brought them closer to her goal.

Now, she would just take her time biding for a chance, to steer this journey, literally and metaphorically, in her direction.

Clarke Griffin wouldn't even saw it coming.

*****

Clarke stood at the prow, staring into the night. The darkness surrounding her felt like it could swallow her whole, only the movement under her feet tethering her to the reality she sometimes believed to have been exchanged with her nightmares that day on the Arkadia.

Bellamy stood quietly beside her. “What did she say?”

Without even looking at him, she sighed deeply. “She refuses to help. I have given her twenty-four hours to consider.”

“What if she is still refusing to help us by then?”

“We'll take her to New Providence,” she wiped her face in frustration.” Then.. I suppose we'll have to redouble our efforts to find the Commander on the high seas.”

“Why not start a rumour that we have treasure on board? The pirates will come flocking to us.”

She shook her head at his suggestion. The thought had crossed her mind, but she dismissed it for the sheer risk such rumours would pose them.  
“He's brutal, Bellamy. I would rather we be the ones attacking him.”

“As you wish, Captain.”

She glanced at him. “Will you rename the ship once she's yours?”

“I will,” he turned to face her fully. “I shall rename her Lady Clarke instead.”

She chuckled at his answer. “My good man, that will hardly strike fear into the hearts of pirates.”

“I care little for their hearts,” taking her hand in his, his face was solemn as he looked straight into her eyes. “I care only for yours.”

She pulled away from his gaze, her hand slipping out from his hold as she turned back to look at the sea, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. Bellamy was a good man, she admitted. Whom she liked and respected in equal measure. She found it easy to be in his company, she was able to breathe normally around him. Her skin didn't grow warm, her heart didn't pound, and she had never felt her knees growing weak when she was with him.

Bellamy Blake was the soothing presence to Alexandria Woods’ wild one.

She turned back to face him. “I think I shall retire. Tomorrow will be a long day.

He tilted his head in response. “Good night, Clarke.”

Leaving him standing there, she made her way to her cabin, climbing into her bunk after changing out of her clothes into her nightgown.

Now that she had captured Alexandria Woods, perhaps at long last the ruffian would haunt her dreams no longer.


	4. 3

 

Donning a sky blue gown, Clarke found herself in a hallway dimly illuminated by sporadic torches hung on the wall. Not a whisper of sound could be heard, and the eerie silence was a tangible sensation she could feel pressuring her. The uncomfortable feeling made her stretch her neck, trying relieve the tension when she caught sight of a door at the end of the hallway. Curious, she slowly made her way towards the door. Reaching out to the handle on the door, she hesitated as she took in the strange glow seeping from the edges. After several moments of gathering her courage, she pressed the handle. Carefully, she pushed the door open, amidst the fog swirling from the open crack. The light glowed brighter, beckoning her as she stepped further past the threshold, not absolutely sure what she had expected to see.

But what met her eyes had her breath caught for a long instant.

Gold. Heaps and mounds of golds. Precious stones and jewelleries spilled at her feet, the shine almost blinding her. And in the middle of it all, Alexandria Woods stood arrogantly, her lips forming that cocky half-smirk Clarke had come to associate with her.

She stood, frozen to the spot as the pirate made her way towards her, her boots barely disturbing the wealth around her. Until she was standing right before Clarke, too close to be obeying any rule of a polite society. Her hand came up to brush gentle against the loose strands of blonde hair that had escaped the low bun at her nape. Then her fingers moved, slowly. Enticingly. Slowly tilting her head up until she was looking into twin pools of forest green eyes. Woods grinned at her stunned reaction, and bent down to pick up something from the floor. When she stood back up, the corners of her eyes crinkled with the force of her merriment, she was holding up the most beautiful necklace Clarke had ever seen: a thin gold chain from which a heart-shaped ruby hung daintily.

“May I?” Woods inquired softly. She was only able to nod, still silenced. The hands she had seen rattling the bars of the prison caging their owner before gently secured it around her throat. Woods took a step back, looking pleased with herself. Her hands touched Clarke again, after her brief admiration, turning her to face a gilt-framed looking glass, in which Clarke’s reflection looked back at her. Her gown was low, her shoulders bared when Woods rested her head gently on her left shoulders. The green eyes met her blue ones again in through the mirror, satisfied.

“A fiery heart for the fiery lady I’ve had the pleasure of knowing,” she whispered lowly in her ears, sending shivers down her spine.

A slap echoed around them, breaking the transient moment they shared. Crimson trickled from the ruby framing her chest.

Another slap. The ruby was shedding blood all over her skin now.

And another slap—

Clarke jerked awake, pressing her hand to her throat. The familiar shape of her mother’s necklace warmed by her bosom greeted her, welcoming her to the waking world. She took comfort in the memories of her mother, when yet another slap, muffled by the walls of her quarters, reached her ears. Frowning, she almost jumped out of her bunk to see what was causing the noise and grabbed her wrap. When she was running around above deck, she usually wore a plain brown dress that left her curves a mystery, her weapons tucked in her belt, and her hair in a single braid down her back. As the only woman aboard a ship full of men, mostly young lads, she dressed keeping in mind that this was not a London ballroom, as sure as it was not the strains of waltz filling her days aboard the ship.

Another slap filled the air. Abandoning her principle to never appear in front of her crew unless she was properly dressed, she tore out of her quarters when the unnatural silence of the ship, aside from the repeated slaps, registered in her mind. As though none of the men was working, as though no one besides her was even aboard.

She burst through the door leading to the quarter deck. Being one level up from the main deck, she had a good view of most of the ship. At the far end, men were gathered in a large cluster, but the height of her platform enabled her to see over their heads, at the woman with her arms raised high, her wrist tied to the foremast. Murphy—the first mate—holding the cat-o’-nine-tails, bringing it back, and flicking it forward.

“NO!” she shouted.

Her words did not stop the momentum of his movements, and the nine strips slapped against Alexandria Woods’ bare back. The woman hardly flinched.

“STOP IT!” she shouted repeatedly with each step she took as she shoved her way through the huddle. Murphy just stood there, breathing heavily, when she finally managed to get to the front of the gathering. Her eyes widened in horror when she saw the blood trailing from the tips of the whip onto the planked flooring. Looking up, she forced herself to swallow back the bile rising into her throat at the injured back of her pirate, taking in her tightly shut eyes, clenched jaws, and her hands balled into white-knuckled fists. After her display of cockiness last night, her silence unnerved her.

“Clarke, it’s best if you do not interfere.”

Her head whipped to the side at the sound of Bellamy’s voice, only then noticing his presence. She frowned at seeing his utter calmness, as if such brutality, such torture was a normal, everyday occurrence for him.

“Why are you doing this?” her voiced trembled in barely held outrage.

“Woods refuses to help us. She will begin each day with a dozen lashes until she is broken—“

“No!”

He took a step towards her, his dark gaze hardened in a way she had never seen before. “Clarke, you are too kind hearted to do what needs to be done,” he glanced towards the trussed up pirate. “So now I will deal with her.”

She stood her ground against his stare, desperately asserting her authority. “I am the captain of this ship. I forbid flogging.”

“Clarke, don’t be rash. It's a common practice to give a disobedient man a taste of the cat. Or do you want a mutiny on your hands when you take that away and have no means to keep them in line?”

"I'd think you'd have a mutiny if you went about flogging them."

“You men are dismissed. Get back to your duties!” he barked the order to the men around them, then returned his attention to her. “You are captain because it is your ship,” he rumbled deeply. “Not because you have the experience to lead.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “This is not leading. This is bullying.”

Spinning around to find Murphy still standing there, she snatched the whip from his hand, before marching to the side of the ship and hurling the bloody strands to the ocean depths.

“Cut Woods down immediately and carry her to my quarters,” she addressed Murphy. “Then fetch the physician.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” Murphy saluted her. Pulling his knife free, he went about cutting the bindings that held Woods secure. Tears sting Clarke’s eyes at the sight of her lacerated back, the red liquid oozing from her back. Still, a deep amazement bloomed in her chest at the fact that despite how badly she had been hurt, Alexandria Woods did not let out a single squeak.

“Are you not going to have her in your quarters dressed like that?” Bellamy asked, clear disapproval in his voice.

She scoffed, remembering Woods’ shirt they had ripped open in the back to carry out the flogging. “I doubt she would be able to stand wearing a shirt, at least until the doctor’s tended to her wounds.”

“I wasn't referring to her clothes, but yours.”

She looked at herself, just remembering that she'd come straight from bed, then back at her quartermaster. “I can't believe you did this.”

“I know how important finding the Commander is for you,” he met her unwaveringly. “I did this for you.”

“Gentlemen usually give flowers to a lady when they wish to earn her favour.”

“Flowers are bad luck aboard ship. They're omens of deaths to come,” he smiled sadly at her. “Perhaps when we return to shore.”

She shook her head when he missed her point entirely.

“Woods can't be broken.”

“Everyone can be broken.”

The ruthlessness in his words had her glaring at him. She couldn't associate the cruelty in his conviction with the with the fair man respected by her crew, or the brave, strong and determined man she thought shared her beliefs regarding justice. 

“Why are you acting like I'm the villain here?” he demanded.

She hissed lowly. “Because it was brutal and I will not stand for it.”

“Yes, it was brutal, I don't deny it,” he acknowledged her statement, then turned to defend his action. “But brutality is all he understands. I didn't think you'd object.”

“Then why do it when I am asleep??” she countered.

“Because I didn't think you'd be able to stomach it either.” He gestured widely towards the crew. “I suspect most of the men have been flogged one time or another. It's part of life at sea.”

“Not aboard my ship, Mr. Blake. Do we have an understanding?” His jaw tightened, and instead of the objection she had expected, he brusquely nodded and saluted her. “Aye aye, Captain.”

“Thank you, Bellamy,” she awkwardly tried to break the tension between them. “I depend upon your wisdom, your knowledge, and your dedication to righteousness. You are an honourable man.”

He only silently faced the sea as she spoke.

She took a deep breath. “Please don't lose that on our journey to recover what we lost.”

“Pirates are a plague upon the seas,” he asserted.

“I do not disagree with you,” she acquiesced. “But neither should we stoop to their level.”

He looked squarely at her. “Haven't we already, Clarke?”

“No,” she shook her head. “We have not.” She staunchly refused to acknowledge that she was closer to being a pirate than she would admit. Turning away from him, she quickly returned to her cabin.

Dr. Greene was already there examining Woods’ back when she reached her quarters. The pirate lay on her stomach, on her bunk. Clarke wondered as she watched her keeping her eyes if she was sleeping. She doubted the other woman could, though. Given the pain she must be in. Probably unconscious, then. Or just trying to hide what she's feeling.

“How badly hurt is she?” She asked the doctor.

The doctor carefully dabbed a cloth against the cuts, and again Woods’ strength caught her attention when she only flinched ever so slightly. Once the blood was cleaned up, he examined his patient quietly.

“Well, could have been worse,” he delivered his verdict. 

Clarke exhaled the breathe she didn't know she was holding.

“Now I'm going to put some salve on your wounds. Bandage them up, alright?” Woods gave a tiny nod of assent. “I'm surprised by the condition of your back. It doesn't appear you've been flogged before."

“Pirates don't flog,” she forced the words out between clenched teeth.

“Truly?” Clarke asked.

Woods tried to flash her trademark half-smirk at her, only it came out as a grimace when she tried. “Hardly ever.”

She looked like she was going to elaborate. Instead, she slammed her eyes shut, hissing with a slight intake of breath as Dr. Greene continued his ministrations.

It was difficult for Clarke to remember that she was a pirate, when she saw the pain the pirate was in. Doubtlessly she deserved such treatment. The thought cycled in her head, and she found it hard to blame Bellamy for his action. She herself had toyed with the notion of taking a lash to Woods’ back. After all, if Woods had agreed to help her, she would have been spared. So how could she remain self-righteously angry at her quartermaster for actually carrying through on something she'd considered? Deep down, though, she knew when the push comes to shove, she would never give the order to carry out the punishment.

Clarke clenched her teeth when unwanted memories flashed before her sight.

Her world had been turned upside down the day the pirates had attacked. Her naive view of the world shattered. 

She despised them. Despised them all.

Despised Alexandria Woods the most.

Because even now, even as her dream from last night played in her mind, she longed to be kissed by her once again.

...

Clarke Griffin had very nice ankles.

If she was a gentlewoman, Alexandria wouldn't look. Then again she had never claimed to be one either, hadn't she? In fact, she revelled in her admission of being exactly what she was: a rogue, and a scoundrel. She was a pirate and she took pride in herself. 

Any pirate worth his salt would steal a peek at Miss Griffin’s ankles. So she did.

After the doctor left, she'd move a screen into place and gone behind it to change her clothes. She had came over to inspect her, and probably decided that she was either asleep or unconscious. As if. Her back felt as if fiery flames licked at it, sleep had never felt so far away as it was right now. Clarke seemed reassured in her view, though. Otherwise she doubted the captain would do something so daring in front of the pirate who had kissed her so boldly before.

Laying on her stomach, she watched through the open bottom of the screen at Clarke’s feet, ankles, and a bit of her calves as she dressed herself. One slender feet raised, the other one on the ground as she went about her business. Alexandria smiled to herself. When she raised her hands above the screen, wiggling herself into her dress, she supposed, she wiped the smile off her face and closed her eyes, pretending to be fast asleep.

To her surprise, even without seeing her, she was acutely attuned to her presence, painfully aware of the captain coming up to the bunk to take a look at her. Sensing her moving away, she discreetly peered through her eyelashes at the woman sitting in a a chair, slipping on her stockings and boots. She knew she still appeared to be unconscious, if Clarke’s nonchalance when she turned slightly to look at her was any indication.

Alexandria wondered what she saw when she looked at her.

What could she be thinking about when it came to her?

She scoffed inwardly. No matter what Clarke might make of her, she was smart enough to know there was no way in the blazes she would think the slightest bit favourable of her.

The knock on the door again drew her attention to Clarke, who smoothed her skirt as though needing time to gather herself. Or maybe she just wanted to appear well put together regardless of the location.

“Enter.”

The door opened and a sailor walked in with a tray.“Yer breakfast, Cap’n.”

Alexandria groaned to herself, _‘Of course they'd send Echo, my bloody luck.'_

Forcing herself to rise, she snarled at Echo. “Bloody hell! What are you doing here?!”Pain flared in her back from her sudden movements.

Echo’s eyes widened at the sight of her, taking a step back, the tray in her hands dropped to the floor.

Clarke spun towards her, her face flushed in wrath. “How long have you been awake??!”

Alexandria blinked several times, clenching her teeth to fight against the fiery pain on her back, swinging her legs off the bunk. “Long enough.” 

The pesky quartermaster of hers came crashing through the door, sword in hand. She would have retch at all the knightly acts he'd been displaying. Sickening. Her mind absently wondered if he had kissed Clarke. 

Did she kiss him back?

Had she willingly given him the privilege Alexandria had been reduced to steal from her?

“What's amiss here?” His voice boomed with authority.

Clarke rubbed her temple, clearly exasperated. “It was nothing, Bellamy.”

Echo, apparently still stunned by her condition, frowned after a long moment. “I didn't know she would be out and about. Shouldn't she be in the brig?”

“As she should be. You!”Blake advanced forward, pointing his sword at her. “On your feet. Handsomely now!”

“No,” Clarke intervened. “She's still bleeding. I want her to stay here for the day. Less chance for infection.”

She was almost hysterical at the captain’s word. What is someone like this doing playing at being a heartless privateer?

Blake seemed to not share that feeling though, “And more chance of her causing mischief.”

Clarke exhaled in frustration. “Hardly,”she nodded at Echo. “Clean this up and bring some more.”

“Aye Cap’n.” Echo quickly cleaned up what appeared to be porridge. She was spared having to clean any splinter since it had been in a wooden bowl.

Silence fell onto them as Echo worked. Alexandria knew the other pirate was likely still deeply concerned about her, while she guessed Clarke and Blake didn't quite trust her not to repeat what might be said in the captain’s quarters.

When she finally left, Blake turned said, “Clarke, you can't keep Woods here. The men will talk. Your reputation--”

“Went to the devil the day I decided to captain a ship." 

She walked over to Alexandria. “Lie back down. I'm afraid you just undid the good doctor’s work.”

Slowly, she moved back onto the brig, obeying her order. Even the ginger movements agonised her, and she bit back her moan.

Warm fingers touched her shoulder, the gentleness inducing a strange twist in her stomach. “I think you'll be alright,” Clarke’s voice came from above her. 

“You and I have different meaning of the word alright,” she grumbled, trying to ignore the sudden feeling of being home that dawned in her chest.

“I simply meant that I don't think I need to send for the doctor again.”

“Mr. Blake,” she strode to her desk, sitting in a large leather chair behind it.

“Aye, Captain.”

Dipping her quill into the ink pot, she opened the journal and began to write. “Since Miss Woods has declined to help us, see to it that we will reach the Bahamas without delay.”

“You shouldn't be alone with the likes of her.”

“I have two pistols, a sword, and two knives. And I've honestly lost all patience and would welcome an excuse to use one or all on her. So see to your duties and I shall see to mine.”

“Aye, Captain. But I'll leave the door open,” Alexandria could almost feel the bite of the cat in his words as he stormed from the room.

“Right jolly fellow, ain't he?” She cracked a grin when the Clarke turned to look at her.

“He has little patience with pirates, Miss Woods. As do I. I suggest you rest and gather your strength. You'll need it to fight off the rats in the brig.”

Alexandria watched the woman trying valiantly to be tough. But this was also the woman who had left her the lantern, stopped Blake from whipping her, and she'd seen the tears in her eyes when the doctor had tended to her back.

“Why do you want the Commander?”she asked, genuinely curious.

“He stole from me. It's the same reason I wanted you.”

“You made it very personal.”

Her quill stopped at the statement. “It is personal.” Her voice was so quiet, Alexandria almost missed it.

“How so?”

“The treasure belonged to the King. My father was responsible for it. Now he sits in prison at New Providence, under suspicion of piracy or cowardice -- Jaha has not yet determined which--because my father survived,” her voice wavered towards the end of her sentence. 

Out of consideration for her kindness, Alexandria opted to not mention her brief falter.

"And now you risk your life to save his? Is that wise?”

Clarke straightened up at the question, all traces of her moment of weakness gone as she glared at Alexandria."He knows nothing of what I'm doing, and I'll not have you call it into question. It's enough for you to know I want the treasure.” She shifted her focus back on the journal in front of her, set on ignoring Alexandria.

“What were you doing on the Arkadia?” Her next question came, after it had been nagging her since she caught the noble lady hiding, terrified, in the hold.

Clarke’s hand stlled again, her quill poised above the paper.

“Do you know the island Mourning?”

Alexandria tossed her head. “Aye. It doesn't even have a decent port.”

“At the behest of the King, my father was to serve as the royal governor of Mourning,”she gripped the quill. “The treasure was to be used to build a settlement on the island.”

“So you think returning the treasure will--?”

“Will give the governor no reason to hold him,” she turned a hard look onto her. “As well as for the sake of justice itself. Not that I think you are able to comprehend the concept.”

She looked back defiantly into the accusing blue gaze. “I resent that. I'll have you know we pirates are a fair bunch.”

“Pirates do not have the right to steal.”

“I assume you want to put an end to pirating,then?”

“I do. I never want anyone else to experience the terror I did that morning when the Polaris attacked us.”

“I didn't harm you,” she defended herself, refusing to let her words make her feel guilty.

“You threatened me, Miss Woods. You stole my ring.”

She hid her surprise that Clarke had not taken it back when she had the chance and shrugged, wincing from the pain the slight pull on her wounds the movement made. “I was merely carrying out the tradition that began when men first began to travel the seas.” 

The blonde scowled. “Thievery?”

“There have always been pirates, milady,” she flashed her trademark smirk at Clarke.

“And there have always been those willing to challenge them,” she replied hotly, her fair skin flushed in what Alexandria could only assume was irritation.

Clarke was so easily angered. So righteous. She couldn't deny that she enjoyed pricking her temper.

A knock sounded on the door, breaking their silent battle. “Enter.”

Alexandria decided there and then that she absolutely loathed it when Clarke’s attention wasn't only for her. She had expected Echo to return with her porridge. Instead, it was the bloke who'd wielded the lash.

“Cap’n, Mr. Blake sent me to fetch you. There's something he needs you to see.”

She rose, chair scraping noisily against the floor. “Thank you, Mr. Murphy.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow. She was going to be left alone?

Clarke paused on her way to the door. “Mr. Murphy, please escort Miss Woods back to the brig.”

Right. As if.

“Aye aye, Cap’n.”

Murphy walked into the room. He wasn't exactly packing a huge bulk, as far as men go. But Alexandria could see two swords, the hilt of two knives, and three pistols strapped across his chest.

“Don't be giving me any trouble, pirate.”

Alexandria slowly, laboriously made her way out of the bunk.

“Wouldn't dream of it, mate.”

.....

It didn't take Echo long to appear in the brig, another bowl of porridge in her hands. Alexandria could see tears beginning to well in her eyes.

“Heda?”

She only groaned in reply. Her agent clambered down immediately. “Heda, please let me take a look at your back.”

Moving bit by bit, she sat with her back towards the other woman. Echo reached out and began unwrapping the bandage, stunned at her condition. Shaken, she dug out a bottle of ointment. “I have some of Nyko’s salve with me,” carefully, she slathered the medication over the welts. “I swear, that Bellamy Blake will pay.”

Alexandria was only half conscious at this point, the traditional salve prepared by the Polaris chief doctor soothing the burning pain.

“Yeah,” she slurred. “He will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh, this is unbeta'ed (cause I don't have one) so all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Comments make me motivated to continue so tell me what you think of this! Come say hi at http://fvondazs.tumblr.com/


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